Looking Like You Fell in Love
by ralsbecket
Summary: "Dance with me." You angled a look over your shoulder, finding Markus with a hand extended in your direction. A smile was dancing across his lips. "Oh, no. No, thanks," you huffed. You shook your head, turning back to the window. "I don't dance." / A Detroit: Become Human one-shot.


"You're writing lines about me; romantic poetry

Your girl's got red in her cheeks, 'cause we're something she can't see

And I try to refrain but you're stuck in my brain

And all I do is cry and complain because second's not the same"

\- Halsey

* * *

He was happy, carefree. The smiles reached his mismatched eyes and you absolutely adored it. You rarely got to see this side of Markus — _no one_ really ever got to see this side of Markus, frankly — but it always put a genuine smile to your face.

It was an ungodly hour of the night, although when you're an android with a power core that lasts over a hundred years, you didn't really need to "sleep" like humans did. Markus held your hand loosely in his, swinging your arms slightly as you walked down the hallway to your hotel room. When you unlocked the door, you let out a sharp yelp as Markus twirled you under his arm and into the room.

You both let the door close behind you with a _click_ and waddled forward with his arms wrapped around your waist. His chin rested on your shoulder, the beating of his thirium pump dull against your back.

"What are you thinking right now?" you asked quietly. Your thumb ran along the back of his hand, and he pressed his lips to your shoulder.

Markus breathed out through his nose, muttering against your clothed shoulder, "I am ready to just go home after tonight."

"I dunno," you began, turning yourself in his grip to face him. You held his chin between your thumb and forefinger, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. "I sort of like having you all to myself."

He rolled his eyes, failing to hide the growing grin on his lips. Still, an uneasy expression flashed briefly across his features, and you took note. Sometimes you wished that he still had his LED; it would make reading him just a little easier. Your eyes fell from his gaze and you pulled yourself away, walking over to pull back the window curtains and look out to the city lights of the nation's capital. The bright yellow of your LED reflected at you in the glass.

To say that the last few days had been "a lot" was an understatement, flying from Michigan to New York to Washington, D. C. for conferences and meetings and interviews. You originally assumed that being the face of the Android Revolution would come easily to someone like Markus, especially with everything he had gone through, but he always seemed to surprise you. In fact, you were surprised that he asked you to accompany him on this "press tour," rather than Josh or Simon or Connor or…

The television hanging on the wall flickered to life. You watched the reflection from the window as Markus took a seat at the foot of the bed, kicking off his shoes and loosening up the "dumb" tie around his neck that he felt obligated to wear. Not long after, swift jazz music began playing.

"Dance with me."

You angled a look over your shoulder, finding Markus with a hand extended in your direction. A smile was dancing across his lips. "Oh, no. No, thanks," you huffed. You shook your head, turning back to the window. "I don't dance."

His hand found the flat of your palm, linking your fingers together. Markus tugged at your arm, pulling you towards the center of the room. "Humor me this once, Y/N," he said softly, smiling still.

You toed off your business casual footwear as you walked forward, following Markus as he walked back. A small chuckle rose from your chest when you noticed him begin to shuffle around in his tube socks. Markus adjusted his hold on you, pressing you flush against him as you slowly swayed to the music.

After a few moments, you leaned into his shoulder, resting your head against his chest. He fit you under his chin, almost refusing to let go entirely. The sound of a mastered saxophone filled the cozy little hotel room. It was as if the world stood still in that moment, just enveloping the two of you in the atmosphere of the dark and early morning. Markus was warm against you, and for a moment you could let yourself imagine being happily in love someone like him.

But you had already made a promise to yourself — a promise to not get too attached. Not when North was still a factor in his life. Not when you had skin in the game, and he was content with merely being the player.

A frown found its way to your lips. A heavy sigh left from your nostrils, and the two of you immediately stopped swaying. You pulled back, looking up at the man before you. "Markus—"

"Don't."

You had frozen upon meeting his eyes, solid and warm and longing. One of his hands grazed the edges of your face, caressing the nape of your neck. The other reached down to link with your hand again, weaving his fingers between yours. You watched with bated breath, curious, as he stared at your joined hands.

Then, his skin began to peel back and expose the hard plastic beneath it all. Consciously, you followed his action, exposing your forearm as well. A soft glow seemed to emit from your hands, and a heavy wave of unintelligible data — emotions, they were emotions — flowed through your system.

No words were exchanged between you. There was no need, not when you had felt connected with him in a way that you'd never been with anyone else. He all but melted into you when you kissed him, holding you firmly in his grasp. It was rough and unpracticed, all teeth and tongue, with hesitantly wandering hands.

At some point one of you had the brilliant idea of stripping away your restrictive clothing and throwing yourselves under the cool sheets. All the lights in the room cast a soft glow through the white duvet, and you would be lying if it didn't frame him saint-like. Markus had started mapping out every inch of your skin with feather-light kisses, alternating with grazing his teeth against the more sensitive parts of your body.

You had come twice undone before he was even in you, and for a moment the thought of overheating crossed your mind. But his lips on yours were a beautiful distraction, and the stretch of him was a feeling that sent your mind _reeling_. Markus took his sweet time pulling you apart and putting you back together again; you loved hearing the sound of his breathless moans almost as much as he loved the sensual curses that escaped your lips every time he — hit you — fuck, _right there _— because rA9 had blessed this RK200 model in more ways than one.

Soon enough he was shuddering into you and burying himself to the hilt, peppering your skin with little love bites because Markus had always been possessive, and you weren't complaining. You could write lines upon lines about how being with Markus was like, about the deviancy bringing out something in you that you once tried to refrain from.

You stayed in bed, safe in his arms that you held like stairway railings, until the sun began peaking out over the horizon. But unfortunately for you, the brand-new day was a reminder that you both had to go back to life's reality. And despite the lovely aura that stayed with you both while you got dressed, got to the airport, got on your flight, it didn't keep one thought from nagging you in the back of your mind.

It was when you touched down in Detroit once again, seeing your friends from Jericho coming to greet you at the terminal. It was when North met Markus halfway, pulling him into a kiss that he seemed just too eager for.

It was then that you realized that you'd fallen in love with someone who would never really love you back.


End file.
